I’ve heard the distant sound of your voice again
which, as a playful beam of sunlight, warm and swift,
falls on an earthly spheres through teared strain of clouds:
it’d reached my soul, wondering in adrift…
My frozen soul became the living world again,
which sings and flies, and moves its petals and its leafs
towards you gentle smile it’s trying to reach in vain —
leaving behind the fading past with all its griefs.
Your voice! — for how long its vibrant tone will stay —
enveloping me in its sweetest fading mist —
before the silence tells me that it’s gone away?!
But when you’ve gone — I know — you will still exist
in the motif accompanied by gentle chords
and in the bitter joy of quiet humble words…
July ‘2002
Your Voice, a Sonnet
© Copyright: Кирилл Большаков, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123111706592
Свидетельство о публикации №123111706592
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